Someone Like You
by sumthin.clever.5
Summary: Sex is still a bit new to Sherlock. (Picture fic. Johnlock. Slash relationship. No copyright infringement meant and all that.)


A/N: So this is my second picfic (I saw a picture, decided it needed a fic to go with it). It's also my first venture into the Sherlock fandom. It would be smut, huh? :o I'm not sure I got the characterizations as down pat as I'd like, but I love how it turned out anyway. Hope you all enjoy. :] Thanks in advance to all who read/review/follow/favorite! Also, title based on the Adele song.

Picture that inspired this fic: tinypic [dotcom] / r / ng51du / 5 (Forgive me for anyone having trouble with this link. ff doesn't like me today.)

So worth it. Go see! I wrote this fic while I had the pic up in another tab. Nice eye catcher. x3

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Someone Like You

Sherlock watched as John removed his jumper and began unbuttoning his shirt. John's eyes held steady on Sherlock as he unbuttoned his own.

Sherlock's fingers fumbled. This wasn't their first time doing this, but it was still pretty new. Moreso for Sherlock than John, of course. In the general area of sex, that is. But at least they were still each other's first male relationship. Even if this was Sherlock's first relationship period.

Sherlock watched as arousal clouded John's eyes as inch after thin, pale inch of Sherlock's chest was revealed. Sherlock still hadn't quite gotten used to John looking at him like that. No one ever looked at him like that. He was always the outcast. The sociopath. The freak.

After John let his shirt fall to the floor, he abandoned his own undressing to approach Sherlock. Their eyes met and locked as John touched him.

Hands roamed over exposed skin and material that hid skin still waiting to be unwrapped. Chest and arms and back and hips and arse. Sherlock's hips jerked involuntarily forward when the back of John's fingers brushed his covered crotch. The smile John gave him was almost shyly apologetic and yet…not.

John's hands continued to wander over Sherlock's body and his skin heated under John's touch. He saw John's eyes darken as they peered at his face, watching what he knew was an unusual play of uncontrolled arousal there. So in contrast to Sherlock's normally stoic features.

And then John moved to his trousers. John watched him steadily as he undid the button and unzipped him before halting. If he was waiting for a denial, he wouldn't get one. Sherlock assumed he found whatever confirmation he was after as John eased his trousers and pants down his hips. As John finally broke eye contact to bend and work them down Sherlock's legs, he gladly lifted his feet to help John remove them.

And then John was level with his penis. Sherlock watched as he stopped and stared at it for a moment. Even at this angle Sherlock could tell John was captivated. This wasn't the first time John seemed to have fallen into a trance over it. Sherlock wasn't altogether sure why. John had surely seen his fair share of penises when he was an Army doctor, though Sherlock supposed John hadn't appreciated them then as he did now. But Sherlock's wasn't that special. It was about average thickness, albeit a bit longer than average to fit Sherlock's long, lanky frame. But not different enough to warrant such marveling.

Sherlock felt himself twitch under John's scrutiny. When John involuntarily licked his lips, Sherlock felt blood drain and pool into his penis, lengthening him and making him hard and heavy.

John's eyes flicked up to him. Sherlock stared back. He could tell that John was again thinking of venturing into new territory. Though they'd had sex on two occasions before now, it had never gone oral. They'd kissed in more innocent places. It was all hands and messy rubbing and fumbling sex besides that. But Sherlock wasn't against giving it a go. He just wasn't sure how to communicate to John that if he wanted to try, Sherlock was more than willing to let him. He said nothing.

John denied himself as usual. He stood again, returning to Sherlock's level. Or as close as he could get given their height difference. His eyes smoldered with all the fantasies dancing in his head. Thoughts of what they could do. Would do.

But there was space between them. It was almost a cool balm to Sherlock's heated skin, but it was itself growing hotter as the air crackled between them. John pulled Sherlock to him and their bodies melded, eliminating their distance and combining their heat.

And John kissed him. Dazzling Sherlock's senses and scattering his usually organized thoughts. Heady. That's what the kiss was. Thrilling and brilliant and almost bruising in John's fervor. And it still astounded Sherlock that someone could want him this much. That someone could want him.

John bent and pulled Sherlock with him, lowering them to the floor. The small fraction of Sherlock's brain still functioning calculated the distance to the bed. Seven metres. Too far for him and obviously too far for John, too.

Sherlock closed his eyes to better absorb the feelings the kiss brought him. He got too distracted when they were open and he could take in other things in his view. Not that anything captured his vision right now but John. John's straight hair. John's broad shoulders. John's flushed face. John's closed eyes. John.

Sherlock allowed himself to be pushed backwards at John's urging. He leaned back on his elbows and felt his shirt slide off his shoulders. John maintained their kiss, but gentled it as Sherlock's compliance filtered through to him. John crawled between Sherlock's legs, lifting his left one to bring their bodies closer and settling on his knees between them, leaning on his own left arm for balance.

The shock of rough fabric on skin sent a jolt through Sherlock. He felt his face colour further than it surely already was. The position was new and almost embarrassing but alluring. He liked the closer contact the angle gave them.

Sherlock reached up the cup the back of John's neck, pulling him toward him and deepening the kiss. He was trusting his remaining elbow to support his weight, but he needn't have worried because John soon released his leg to put two arms around him and pull their chests flush.

When Sherlock's shirt got in the way of the skin-to-skin contact, John hurriedly removed it before pulling their bodies together again. John thrust his hips forward and Sherlock let out a grunt as the rough trouser fabric abraded his very sensitive penis.

John kissed his neck in apology and with a great deal of shuffling and scrambling from them both, they freed John from his trousers and pants and allowed their full bodies to embrace each other's.

Sherlock groaned loudly at the feeling. John kissed the sound from his lips.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John, tangling a hand in the dirty blond locks and binding the doctor to him by the shoulders. Sherlock felt John's muscles flex when he returned the embrace with both arms around Sherlock's back.

When John thrust his hips forward this time, Sherlock moaned low in his throat. He felt the flush rise up in his face. So many still unfamiliar feelings coursed through him. Desire had been such a foreign idea to him until recently. Something he'd never thought he himself would ever experience. And now it crashed upon him in tidal waves. He still didn't quite know how to cope with it. He pulled John tighter to him in defence.

Sherlock felt John lowering him to the floor before lying atop him, driving their bodies harder together. When John's tongue gently traced Sherlock's bottom lip, Sherlock tentatively opened his mouth for him. John wasted no time in accepting the invitation and invading Sherlock's orifice. With an exploratory tongue, John learned Sherlock's mouth. Sweeping his cheeks and roof and slowly tangling their tongues together. Sherlock nearly drowned in John's increasingly familiar taste.

John withdrew from the kiss before he raised a hand and stroked Sherlock's face. It was the most affection Sherlock had had in years. He opened his eyes to see John peering down at him. He smiled tenderly at whatever he saw in Sherlock's face before stroking it again.

Then he lifted his hips and stroked his hand down Sherlock's penis. Sherlock's eyes glazed over. John continued to stroke him and Sherlock's hips bucked upward seeking more friction than the barely-there touches John was administering. When his vision cleared enough to see again, Sherlock noted John's smile had turned a lot more wolfish. He was enjoying what he was doing to Sherlock. How he could make him react.

Sherlock almost forcibly stilled himself in response to being manipulated, but then John actually took him in hand and pumped. Any rebellious thoughts he'd briefly harboured were effectively moored.

John didn't quite seem in control of his own actions because as he pumped Sherlock, his own hips made small thrusts against Sherlock's leg. Sherlock jerked his hips up, hoping to arouse John further and seeking this new source of friction for himself.

When John seemed no longer able to take the lack of sufficient stimulation to himself, he wrapped both their shafts in his hand and pumped them together.

Sherlock felt his back arch at this contact before he stilled and shuddered his way back flat to the floor.

John continued to pump them, his own hips bucking forward to help. Sherlock panted as he felt himself getting close to orgasm. The flush rose in his chest and worked its way up his neck into his cheeks. He couldn't find the breath to warn John but it was a moot point, anyway. John let out a hearty groan before his back arched and he came over Sherlock and his own hand. Sherlock watched him- his eyes closed, his breath escaping in little gasps, his body faintly shaking- and it was seductive enough to trigger his own release. His groan was a lot quieter but no less potent as he rained his essence over John and himself. He wasn't sure what he looked like, but he didn't doubt it was a lot like how John looked a moment ago.

They came down in shared ragged breaths and rising and falling chests. John heaved himself off of Sherlock before pulling the detective to his feet. They stumbled to the bathroom on sated and unstable legs to get cleaned up. When they were no longer dripping in their own cum, they staggered back into Sherlock's bedroom and fell into the bed, burrowing beneath the covers.

Despite having both just gotten off, John was already back to kissing Sherlock. Lips. Cheeks. Jaw. Neck. Chest.

Sherlock could understand his hurry. He was already anxious to feel John inside him. Since they'd started having sex, John had been the one to take Sherlock. Sherlock supposed they'd eventually try the other way, but he was more than content with the current arrangement for now.

Having John inside him was…indescribable. Sherlock had never felt so full and together and a part of something. All his life he'd been on the outside. Separated by his intellect or his strangeness or his aloof nature. But when John took him, he was _wanted_. He was complete. And now whenever John no longer inhabited his body, he felt empty.

While John continued his lips' attack on his skin, Sherlock reached to his bedside table and fumbled with the drawer where they now kept a bottle of lube. John had been tested since his last relationship and Mycroft had had Sherlock tested for any- and everything since his drug abuse days. They were both blessedly clean so they didn't bother with condoms.

Sherlock pressed the bottle into John's hand. John licked Sherlock's nipple before withdrawing to unscrew the bottle cap. Sherlock watched him squeeze some of the ointment into his hand and smooth it over himself. John's eyes closed at the sensation and his breath shuddered out. Sherlock felt his inner muscles clench just at the look on John's face.

John propped Sherlock's legs open and massaged his thigh muscles to help relax him. Sherlock forced his body into a loosened state. John moved his hands under Sherlock and massaged his arse cheeks. Sensing he was suitably relaxed for now, John withdrew and squeezed more of the lubricant into his hand before returning to Sherlock's arse and parting the cheeks.

He gently stroked along Sherlock's cleft until he found his opening. He slowly worked his middle finger in. Sherlock stiffened up at the invasion. It was still a bit odd at first. After so long of only expulsion, inserting something into himself there still felt wrong.

But as John began to move his finger in and out, his body accepted John's appendage. When John felt the give, he worked first a second and then a third finger into Sherlock's now willing body. When Sherlock began to groan and writher beneath him, John seemed to decide that Sherlock was sufficiently ready for him.

John made sure there was a pillow beneath Sherlock's head and his hips before he settled between Sherlock's legs and aligned himself with his entrance. Sherlock watched as John locked eyes with him as he lowered himself into his body.

Sherlock locked up again as this invasion was bigger than the last, but with a bit of wiggling and some more forced relaxing of his body, he accepted John fully into him.

They both settled with a groan as they adjusted to the feeling- John to feeling Sherlock clasped all around him, Sherlock to feeling filled to the brink and then some.

When John began moving, his stomach brushing against Sherlock's penis with every up and down stroke, Sherlock threw his arms behind his head and clutched at his pillow, searching for purchase.

John held himself up with his hands as he worked, digging his fingers into his palm as the sensations swamped him. Sherlock felt John's forehead touch his. It was hot with the rising heat of their lovemaking.

Sherlock felt him experimenting- twisting his hips this way, swirling himself that way, going a bit deeper with this thrust. When John hit his prostate with one of his thrust, Sherlock couldn't stop his back from arching up anymore than he could stop the exclamation that burst from his mouth.

"John!" he expelled. It was both prayer and benediction. Caution and uninhibited emotion. Stability and barely explored possibility.

John sped up when Sherlock clenched around him. He was close. Sherlock could tell. But Sherlock was, too. He felt his testes tightening, the blood rushing up his chest to brighten his face.

When John hit his prostate again with a solid thrust and came shuddering against him, Sherlock felt himself fall over the edge along with him. His back arched and his head jerked back and he let out another exclamation he was quite unaware of.

"Oh GOD!" he cried.

He dimly felt John collapse on top of him and bury his face in Sherlock's neck as Sherlock emptied himself between them and clenched around John's length still buried within him.

It was a solid minute before he was aware of more that the pleasure still wracking his body. When the nerves in his brain started sending signals back and forth along their synapses again, Sherlock's brain cleared off its post-coital fog and he was able to think again. He became aware of John still laying on his chest, his breath not quite even yet, but getting there. His head rested over Sherlock's heart and he sporadically twisted it to press his lips to Sherlock's skin. It was a tender and almost grateful gesture.

Sherlock released his abused pillow to run one hand through John's hair and the other across his lover's back. He craned his neck forward to press his lips to John's hair. He was still new to showing affection, but that felt right.

John worked his arms beneath Sherlock's back and hugged himself to the curly haired brunet, snuggling his face into Sherlock's chest. Sherlock felt his lips tug upwards of their own accord while something inside of him warmed at the action.

He tightened his fingers in John's hair and wrapped his other arm around John's back, hugging the blond in return.

Sherlock settled in, knowing John would be tired from their exertions. Sherlock himself wasn't likely to sleep, but he was happy to play pillow to his lover. With John buried in him and on him, feeling filled and sated and complete, he decided it wasn't a bad place to be.


End file.
